Fino Al Cielo
by Ashereean
Summary: A seemingly crazy man in friar's robes shows up in London, and a teenage boy finds him on the street, after being mistaken for somebody named "Celestino."


Author's Note: I recently finished reading the first three books of the Stravaganza series (I haven't gotten around to reading the fourth yet, but I hope I can get my hands on it soon), and I really loved the character of Brother Sulien, and for some reason this idea for a fanfic popped into my head. I don't really care if it's not very good, I just felt like writing it and seeing what people think.

Disclaimer: Obviously, the Stravaganza series does not belong to me. Otherwise, the characters would be a good deal crazier, and a lot less lovable. : )

* * *

**Fino Al Cielo  
**_Ashereean_

A typical school boy was walking down the street towards his home. After a long day at school, he would be glad to get home and rest before he had his art class that evening. He was a normal-looking kid, with a book bag on his back that he was longing to get rid of the second he stepped into his house.

"Celestino?!"

There had been a strange-looking man following him for five or ten minutes, calling out to him by a name that wasn't his. At first, he thought the man could have been talking to someone else on the street, but he hadn't ceased his calls, and the boy was the only one around by now. The boy had told him to go away, that he wasn't the one he was looking for, but it appeared the man hadn't heard him.

The man was dressed in robes that looked like they probably belonged to the church. Or at least, the man wouldn't have looked out of place in one, the boy thought. Walking along a sidewalk in a residential area of London, however, he just looked… well, out-of-place.

"Celestino, Brother Tino…"

The man was quick, and had caught up to the teenage boy, grabbing on to his arm, and forcing the boy to turn around. The boy would have called out, but for the strange look on the man's face. He looked familiar, although he had no idea why. He couldn't remember ever seeing this man before in his life.

"Um, sir, I don't think…"

"Celestino, I have so much to tell you…" When the man spoke, he had a strange accent that the teenager recognized, but could not identify. "I am glad to see you again… It's been a long time, but you haven't changed much. Of course, time flows differently here, so that could be it. Now, where could we talk about Talia in peace? Perhaps we could visit Prince Falco, or the young girl Stravagante…"

The old man wasn't making much sense to the boy, and the teenager didn't doubt that he had gone crazy. But, upon taking a closer look at the man, he could see that he had been injured. The injury looked painful, and the boy was surprised that it had barely been seen to, with very loose stitches holding it together.

"Sir… Are you sure you're okay? You're hurt."

"You doubt my healing skills? You've seen me save lives, do you think I cannot save my own. But I am weary…"

The man's eyes were fluttering open and closed, and the longer he spoke, the more he began to rely on the boy's support to stand up. Concerned for the man's health, the boy rushed to the nearest house and asked to phone an ambulance.

* * *

Later, in the hospital, the boy was sitting by the man's bedside, listening to the tales that the strange man had to tell him. He could tell that the man wasn't in the right state of mind, but that didn't stop him from telling interesting stories.

"Celestino, Tino…" the man said with a smile on his face. "It's been a long time, hasn't it? How's Georgia? And… Niccolo, you call him… The Anglia version of that name."

"They're fine, Sulien." The boy had learned the man's name earlier, when he'd introduced himself to the doctors. The curious man had matter-of-factly told the professional doctors that all he needed was a nice bed to lie down on and some peace and quiet. After some technical talk that the boy hadn't quite understood, the doctors seemingly agreed, and also agreed to let the boy stay with him for a while, on Sulien's insistence.

"Do you still have the bottle? I know you gave up Giglia, but you can't have destroyed the talisman, just in case."

"No, I still have it." The teenage boy felt bad for lying to the man, but he couldn't help it. The man looked happy whenever he agreed with him. Even if he didn't know what in the world he was talking about.

"Good, good. I was hoping you could come back for a visit some time, but I don't think so anymore. Maybe you could go get one for me? You see…" The man gestured for the boy to lean in closer to him. "I've got my shadow here, translated like your friend Falco was. I'd like to go back, though. Sandro will miss me if I don't get back, and I don't think your fancy bottle will help me. I need my own…"

The boy, confused more now than ever, tried to figure out what was going on. "Why not stay here, Sulien?"

"Perhaps, yes. I don't quite feel like stravagating just yet."

The boy stood up, and excused himself. "I'm going to go call my father to pick me up. I'm missing my art class."

"Still following Giuditta's footsteps, then? Which father are you calling? I'm already here." The man chuckled, and waved the boy out of the room.

Once the teenage boy was gone, Suilien lay down on the bed, looking at the injury he'd received. It was nice to see Celestino again. He'd stravagated to this world to find some way to heal himself from the injury he'd received in Talia. The di Chimici had been up to no good again, and the friar had gotten caught up in the crossfire trying to stop it.

And Sulien knew how the di Chimici liked to get rid of their enemies. He'd made enough poisons in his life to know that. Antidotes, too, but poisons often enough.

Happy that he'd seen his younger Stravagante friend – no, son. Celestino, Sky, was more of a son than an apprentice, or a friend – Sulien stared at the ceiling and closed his eyes. He doubted these 21st century doctors could help this injury. He couldn't identify it, and was one of the most skilled in Giglia when it came to such things. But to see his young friend again was a gift, and for that he smiled as he fell into a deep sleep.

* * *

When the boy returned, the doctors had already put a curtain around the bed, shutting the man – no, the body of the man – away from view. The boy's father was with him, a strange expression on his face. A few of his father's friends had come, too, with a similar expression that the boy had no idea to recognize. But he was too busy staring in disbelief at the hidden body of the old man who he'd been talking to long ago. He'd never known anybody who'd died before, even if he'd only known this one for a short time.

"His name was Sulien, he said. He was here an hour ago, I was talking to him. He was telling me about stuff that had happened. He kept calling me a weird name that didn't sound like English, but he had a weird accent so that might have been it. He called me his son, too…" The boy sat down on the bed next to the curtained one, unsure of what to say, and unaware that he had been rambling. He'd waited for his father to arrive, but it appears in that time he had been too late. When he got back, the doctor said that the man had passed away. "He looked fine…"

"No doubt he was hiding it from you," his father said, putting his hand on his son's shoulder. "Could I see him?" he asked the doctors, who nodded, allowing the man entry to the hidden bed. A moment passed and he reappeared, nodding to his friends, and wiping tears out of his eyes.

The two other adults there, the boy knew as Uncle Nick and Aunt George, even though they weren't related. But he knew that his dad was good friends with both of them. "It's him," said the boy's father.

Uncle Nick walked over to the bed next, Aunt George not far behind him, as they paid the old man a visit. The boy's father came over to his son and sat next to him. "That man," he said gently, "Was like a father to me at one point. He probably knew he was dying – he knew enough about healing to know at least that much. He called you by a name he gave me when I was your age. You look a lot like me, so he probably recognized you."

"He didn't make much sense when he was talking. Saying stuff about Taila and Giggles or something. But… he thought I was you? Then why'd he call me my name? Or at least, some weird version of it?"

"Because you're named after that name he gave me. Tino, short for the Italian name 'Celestino', which comes from my name, Sky."

"Oh." The boy, Tino, was silent for a moment, watching as Uncle Nick and Aunt George came back around to sit next to the father and his son.

"Do you think we should go back? Maybe he's still there. If he was stravagating and died here… Maybe he's still in Giglia," Uncle Nick suggested.

"He had a shadow," said Tino, surprising everyone. At their shocked expressions, he continued speaking. "He said that he couldn't go back unless I go get him something, and that Sandro would miss him, and something about translating."

"We don't need to go back, then," said Sky, Tino's father. "Let's just give him a proper resting place here. Sandro will understand, and I'm not telling him to grieve again for the same man dying twice."

"Twice?" Tino asked, not sure if he had heard correctly. There was no way someone could die twice, right?

Nobody answered him, though. The three adults were thinking to themselves, thoughts too far off to be paying attention, and probably not even hearing the teenage boy's question. Thinking of home, of friends, and of past adventures. Their thoughts were in another world. In Talia.

* * *

Author's Note: Okay, so the story sounded better in my head than how it turned out, but… whatever. Read and review, please? [[ Oh, and that Ouran story not finished yet… may or may not get written depending on how much time I have. Sorry. :( ]]


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